


Take Care Of Her

by Redmoog



Category: Transformers: Rescue Bots
Genre: Concerts, F/M, Fluff, Jealousy, Matchmaking, Music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 21:35:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14819306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redmoog/pseuds/Redmoog
Summary: Heatwave and Quickshadow acknowledge each other with a little help.





	Take Care Of Her

Heatwave eyed Shard with distaste. "I didn't know you were into flashy mecha, Quickshadow."

"I guess flashy does cover what I am," Shard said in obvious self praise, looking himself over with blatant satisfaction. "There's nothing flashier than a moving mirror, hm?"

His use of 'hm' only annoyed Heatwave more. The red mech rumbled a small sigh and moved farther in. "Well, are you two coming in? Or did you just come to visit?" This was said with a suspicious look at Shard. "He has his own place, right?"

"Of course," Shard chirped. "Amazing place, really. I think it's, two levels? Three? With my own hot oil tub and a pantry where I keep all my sweets." He freely walked in and appraised the humble abode. "Don't you have Rescue Bots quarters? In base? I thought the Autobot base covered all sub-factions."

"They do," said Quickshadow. "But Heatwave prefers his own home, and I just drop in every so often."

"And you hardly ever bring other visitors, too," Heatwave added. "How did you two meet?"

"We're on the same mission," said Quickshadow with a smile at Shard. She grimaced. "With possibly the stupidest names ever created in the entirety of Cybertronian history."

"What?" said Heatwave. 

"Classified information," said Shard with a patronizing grin at Heatwave. "Don't worry about it." 

"I wouldn't," Heatwave grumbled.

"So what makes you think I am?" Quickshadow was amused. Shard was smirking openly at Heatwave, challenging him. 

"What?" Heatwave said. 

"That I'm into flashy mecha." 

"Him," Heatwave gestured to Shard, looking at the Autobot symbol. "Was he made like that?"

Shard played along and pretended he wasn't there. He leaned against the doorway casually. 

"Gee, I don't know," Quickshadow said and turned to Shard, looking away from Heatwave pointedly. "Were you, Shard?"

Shard just-as-pointedly ignored Heatwave and turned to Quickshadow, casting her a charming smile. "Sure I was. Prevented me from absorbing extra heat on the racetrack."

"Hm," said Heatwave unappreciatively.

"So," said Quickshadow. "Have the new energon additives arrived?"

Heatwave shook his helm. "There was a delay. Someone blew up the transporter. Poor mech nearly died, if not for his strong spark."

"Sad," Shard said dismissively. "Things like that happen."

Quickshadow was suspicious, but didn't question the racer. 

Shard didn't say anything either. 

Heatwave said, "I want my rust sticks."

There was silence, during which Shard took the liberty to walk around and examine the furniture and house. He was being purposely - was it rude? Not quite, well, maybe, but then he was here to annoy Heatwave. Maybe if he pushed the fire truck over the edge, he'd find out something useful about him or Quickshadow. 

Shard eyed the house critically. 

Quickshadow had started talking with Heatwave again, something about missions and how life was. Shard spared them a few percent of his processor power, the rest of it finding out what kind of mech Heatwave was. He wasn't only on a mission with Quickshadow, to root out some thugs, but he also needed to find out who was the mole in the Autobots. Quickshadow was high up on his list of suspects. Spies were good at everything. Especially spying. 

Shard said, "Are any of you working for the Decepticons?"

They said, "What?" Then Heatwave said, "No, but it seems like you might be."

"Nah." Shard disappeared into the pantry, wondering how much Heatwave earned. And Quickshadow. 

He felt the other two exchange a look. 

"You guys have plans for tonight? I have tickets to a concert in Little Polyhex, as well as a dinner and some other stuff I'm not interested in unless I have a lover or partner, unless Quickshadow's interested?" He stuck his helm out to flash a seductive face at her, his handsome features working to his advantage. 

Heatwave looked like he wanted to swear. Quickshadow feigned interest. 

"That would be lovely, Shard, thank you," said Quickshadow, smiling gently. Shard left the pantry. 

"Heatwave, wanna come along? You can be...I dunno, lookout for danger?" His entire behavior towards Heatwave was dismissive. It made Heatwave feel small and insignificant against that stupid huge mirror. 

His expression reflected back at him, warped in the curves of Shard's form. 

He started to speak, but Shard cut him off. "I thought Rescue Bots were taller."

Quickshadow killed her laugh and Shard looked down at Heatwave. 

"You're not that tall either," said Heatwave. 

"But I'm not a Rescue Bot. Are you the shortest on your team?" He circled the shorter mech. "Probably."

"Come on, Shard, concerts wait for no one," prompted Quickshadow. 

"You're right," Shard agreed. "Let's go. Heatwave, heel."

Heatwave stopped himself from attacking Shard because he knew the speedster could kill him. "Right, Master."

Shard smirked. "Good. As Quickshadow said, concerts wait for no one!"

He and the femme walked ahead of Heatwave, teasing and flirting openly. A few mecha shot Heatwave sympathetic glances, including a pair of white mecha, an unusual combination of grounder and flier. The flier was grinning openly at all the sights, though his wings canted in what was that, pity? To Heatwave. The other mech grimaced. 

Heatwave had never felt so out of place. It reminded him of when he had first joined the Rescue Bots, facing Prime and the others, who were all already friends. At least that time he'd known he was a Rescue Bot.

Shard was bringing them to a super expensive place. He recognized the route. Prime had once had his Autobot leaders meet here to discuss strategies against the Decepticons. Had Shard been there? He didn't remember. Perhaps as a different mech.

There was a dance floor. Shard had been the gentlemech the entire evening, now he stood and held out a servo to Quickshadow, winking. "May I have this dance, my lady?" He quickly checked Heatwave's expression. Stony as usual. 

Quickshadow rose. "I would gladly dance with you. I hear you're a good dancer." 

Shard pasted on a humble countenance. "That's what they say. I'm still learning. What styles do you like? Praxian romantic? Polyhex energetic? Heatwave stoning?" 

She blinked. "I can't say I'm familiar with the last one, though it's imaginable. Praxian is a bit slow. I have a preference for fast-paced dancing. This music won't do."

"I can do something about that." The gleaming silver mech disappeared into the sea of bodies to bribe the DJ or whoever was doing the music.

"The last style doesn't exist," Heatwave told her, slightly embarrassed. 

Quickshadow smiled genuinely. "Oh, don't be petty, Heatwave! Shard's only having his fun!"

"At my expense," Heatwave pointed out in a mutter.

"I can dance with you after this, if you want," Quickshadow offered. How real was the offer? He wasn't close enough to feel her field. Probably they were just words if pity.

Heatwave said, "I think Shard has plans."

Quickshadow replied, "You're the stubbornest mech I know, Heatwave. You're gonna let that," she said something in an unfamiliar dialect, "stop you?"

Heatwave didn't ask what that word meant. He didn't want to know if it was a compliment or something closer to his thoughts.

···

The buymech leaned close to the fire truck, careful to do this when Quickshadow wasn't looking. He had to trust someone to help him if he ever needed it. He was a careful guy.

Perhaps only a little paranoid.

No, he reminded himself. It's protection. 

"My name isn't really Shard, but you already know that," Shard said in a low voice, soft even in the noise of the crowd. Heatwave waited for him to continue. He shifted a bit.

Shard made sure the other spy was still focused on the aerial display. It was pretty. Then he said, "I might need your help one day, so I'm telling you my real name. Don't betray my trust."

"What is it?" Heatwave wondered if he was really called Focus Point. He wondered why Shard would need his help.

The silver mech switched to Heatwave's native dialect, shocking the latter for a moment before he reminded himself it was Shard's job to know things.

The lone-wolf's accent affected the words so slightly an untrained audial wouldn't detect the wrongness. He said, clearly, "Above-the-focus-point." Heatwave's processor translated the words slowly, distracted. Epicenter.

Shard/Epicenter was already moving away, though their link remained strong. "You can find me on this private channel. As for that femme...take good care of her, Heatwave."

Heatwave felt the weight of responsibility, even larger and heavier than Primus or Metroplex. "I will," he promised, even as he lost the other gleaming mech in the crowd. He pushed through to Quickshadow.

"Where's Shard?" The way she said the name didn't carry anything other than 'Shard', and Heatwave was afraid 'Epicenter' would escape with his subglyphs and harmonics.

"I don't know," he replied truthfully. He gazed up at the stars and jets, visor retracted. He added, "But we can enjoy ourselves without him." Briefly he considered what a luxury it was to watch this display in the tense times before war, and felt grateful. That he had Quickshadow by his side was to be appreciated as well.

"I suppose," Quickshadow agreed. Then, "Thank you, Heatwave."

"For what?"

"Spending tonight with me." She tried to find the words. When she couldn't, she pressed her field against his.

Warmth tingled through him. Tentatively he did the same. 

Their mutual joy rivaled the light of the sun.

**Author's Note:**

> Shard belongs to me. Requested on Wattpad and cross-posted there.


End file.
